


just forget me, it's that simple

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, During Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-07
Updated: 2007-09-07
Packaged: 2018-09-06 10:08:00
Rating: Teen & Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8746033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Can't Stop The Rain follow up.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Almost forgot I had this! It's been collecting dust on my hard drive. So here it is! Much love and thanks to my wonderful and overworked beta! [Miss Cinnamon](http://samdean.archive.nu/viewuser.php?action=favauth&uid=756). She continues to be my miracle worker! Leave reviews ya'll, they keep the muse happy!

  
Author's notes: Almost forgot I had this! It's been collecting dust on my hard drive. So here it is! Much love and thanks to my wonderful and overworked beta! [Miss Cinnamon](http://samdean.archive.nu/viewuser.php?action=favauth&uid=756). She continues to be my miracle worker! Leave reviews ya'll, they keep the muse happy!  


* * *

_So here we stand, just the two of us_

_Our hearts beating cause we've been so nervous_

 

Dean pushed his fist into his mouth. “I’m sorry, Sammy. I’m so sorry.” 

 

He really was. This wasn’t where he wanted things to be. This wasn’t how he wanted things to end, but the past couple of days had just proven to him exactly what he’d always been afraid of: Sam needed more. 

 

And it wasn’t that Dean didn’t know his brother _deserved_ more, because he’d always known that, no matter who it was Sam was with, but until now he’d seemed so happy and satisfied with things. Accepting Dean for all his faults, with no complaint of the things he wasn’t giving Sam. But it was never enough to rid Dean of the fear that somewhere, deep down, Sam was disappointed with him. Disappointed _in_ him. 

 

“Dean?” Sam said softly, reaching a comforting hand out to him. 

 

For a second Dean thought about taking it, about pulling Sam back into him and picking up right where they’d left off before Dean had foolishly pushed him away. He couldn’t though; it wasn’t that easy. Kissing and pleading would only get Dean so far and in the end it was only going to hurt more. 

 

“Don’t,” he pleaded, knocking Sam’s hand away. 

 

This was just how it had to be. Sam would understand one day. And even if he didn’t, Dean wouldn’t be around to know it. 

 

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked, his fists clenching at his sides. Not out of anger, but out of the urge to comfort Dean. It was as familiar as the taste of Sam, that knowledge. 

 

It was Sam down to the core: comforting, sweet, always pushing. Dean couldn’t deal with that now though. It took too much out of him just to stand there now. He’d almost taken off without telling Sam, without sparing a second glance, but he couldn’t do it. Couldn’t stand the thought of leaving without a goodbye, without one last kiss or apology. 

 

Sam would only stay in that motel room until he had no choice but to leave anyway. If Dean didn’t come back and tell him it was over, Sam would just wait. Like Dean would if the situation was reversed. It was part of the territory of giving a damn.

 

_We know what's coming next,_

_The time we hid from has come too fast._

 

It shouldn’t surprise Sam that things were over between them now. It was bound to happen eventually. Dean could only give so much and it would never be enough for Sam whether he admitted it or not. 

 

Not because he didn’t want to be, but because Dean was too broken to believe. 

 

Anyway, Dean had broken things off before. He’d come crawling back shortly after, but this time he meant it. Sam had left him no choice. 

 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again. This wasn’t easy for him, it was harder for him than it ever could be for Sam. At least Dean hoped that would be the way of it. He hated the idea of hurting Sam, but he hated the idea of leading Sam on even more. 

 

Sam cocked his head to the side, waiting calmly for Dean to explain even as his eyes betrayed his feelings of worry. So trusting that Dean would never break his heart. That every insane action had a reason, a purpose of some sort that was meant only to protect Sam. And Sam was right about that, at least, half right. 

 

“I just…” _Just what?_ he thought bitterly. _I’m so in love with you its only going to hurt you in the end?_ Dean laughed sharply and shook his head. How pathetic would that make him look to Sam? How much of an idiot? “Forget it, man. Just forget it.” 

 

It was best to end it and move on. Letting Sam in on his feelings would only make leaving harder on them both. 

 

“Forget what?” Sam asked. His voice was growing wary, more hesitant than before. He knew something was coming, he just didn’t know what. _Or he’s not letting himself think about it,_ Dean thought. 

 

Dean smiled wider, the insanity of it all almost funny, if not maddening. They both knew what was happening here and only one of them was willing to accept it, which was going to make this all that much harder on him. 

 

Sam stepped closer, gently stroking Dean’s cheek. “You okay?” 

 

_No,_ he screamed silently. No, he wasn’t okay. How could he be okay with Sam so close, yet so far away? His heart fluttered, his smile faltering. It would be so easy, just so easy to forget this and sink into Sam. He was offering just that to Dean now. A hand in all this floundering he was doing. 

 

He took a step back and forced a smile again. No. He’d made up his mind and he was sticking to it, no amount of touching or pleading Sam did would change that. This was all for Sam and he just had to keep reminding himself of that.

__

_There's so much I have learned from you,_

_The love you gave was something new._

 

Sam had given him so much over the years: a reason to fight, to believe that there was something good in all the darkness he knew. Sam was the one bright spot in his life, from childhood on. Those years Sam was away at Stanford were the darkest times of his life, and the struggle to go on had never been harder. 

 

When Sam had finally come home to him, finally confessed to Dean his reason for leaving had been because of the love he felt for Dean, there’d never been a time in his life he’d been happier. Except maybe the day Sam was born, but that was a hard day to top considering it was the day that gave him Sam in the first place. 

 

From then on Sam had been nothing but loving. Fighting and arguing with Dean like they always had, like brothers always would, but never loving him any less. Trusting Dean when he went off with other guys, or girls for the sake of the hunt. Or sometimes just because Dean was being stupid and he wanted Sam to feel as frustrated as he was for whatever reason.

 

Never once had he asked Dean what they’d been doing, never once had he accused Dean of being unfaithful. He’d trusted and believed in their love enough to let Dean leave with not so much as a protest. Which sometimes only encouraged Dean more to push his luck. Sometimes he wanted to see Sam break, wanted to know that he wasn’t crazy for being worried about losing Sam, for being jealous every time someone looked Sam’s way. 

 

Dean never did anything, wouldn’t even kiss them when he had Sam back at home waiting for him. He just wanted to hurt Sam, push his luck, see if there was anything more under his younger brother’s calm exterior. None of it mattered though, as hurt as Sam was over Dean’s leaving with some faceless, nameless girl or guy, Sam always welcomed him back with loving arms and eager kisses. 

 

He’d never known anything like that. Love so unconditional and constant. The best he’d ever known before that was a series of one night stands, or his brief attempt at a relationship with Cassie to get over losing Sam. Needless to say that had ended just as badly. 

 

“What’s going on?” Sam demanded, his patience for Dean’s silence gone. Not that he could blame Sam. He had been standing there like an idiot, arguing with himself over something he’d already made a decision on. Hoping, deep down, that somewhere along the way he’d just have to break and surrender his heart to Sam as openly as possible.

 

_But now I've gotta go,_

 

“It’s over, Sam,” he announced quietly. “For good this time.” 

 

_I don't expect you to be ok._

 

Dean dropped his gaze, swallowing his heart back as best he could. He’d thought that saying it would take some of the pressure off him, but it only weighed him down more. It was the start of a new battle, not the end. 

 

He bit down hard on his tongue, _sorry, Sammy,_ and _baby,_ heavy on his tongue. Anything that would take away the sting of his words and reassure Sam that this hadn’t been some kind of sick game. That this had been so much more than Dean could have ever hoped for. 

 

Sam blinked once, twice. His mouth parting on a desperate breath. “Dean,” he managed, taking a step back. “What are you talking about?” 

 

Dean swallowed hard, the sting of tears warning him that he only had so much time if he intended to make this one stick-and he did. “I’m talking about the start of a new life- for us both.”

 

_So get over me,_

 

Sam could go back to Stanford now. He could get his degree and move on from everything he’d hated and everything he’d loved when he should have hated it. Dean was giving Sam the perfect opportunity to have everything he’d ever wanted, and all he had to do was forget the past two years, and even more then that, the past twenty-two before that. 

 

Simple, right? 

 

"This is for your own good, Sam,” Dean promised. He didn’t know why he was still talking, or why he was still standing there in that room when Sam was just staring at him as if he hadn’t heard a word, as if he was still waiting on an explanation. “Stanford, Jess…she’s still waiting for you, man. She has been for the past two years.” 

 

Sam startled then, his cheeks flushing pink. “What are you-”

 

 

“Don’t,” he cut Sam off. “It’s okay, Sammy. I knew you were still talking to her. You left there so quickly, I knew you hadn’t thought things through completely. For once in your life,” he joked half heartedly. 

 

It killed him to know that Sam was still talking to Jess and that he hadn’t bothered to tell Dean about it. Sam wasn’t cheating on him, he wasn’t foolish enough to believe that, but Sam _was_ keeping Jess a secret from him. For whatever reason. 

 

Looking back on it now though, it was for the best that he had kept in touch with Jess. Sam may have ended things with Jess before coming home and confessing his feelings to Dean, but their being friends still held a lot of possibilities for Sam. A lot of possibilities Dean wanted Sam to have, but couldn’t give him himself, not directly anyway.

 

“She doesn’t mean anything to me,” Sam explained needlessly, his voice tinged with panic. “We’re just friends, Dean. I told her before I came back that I was in love with someone else.” 

 

_Cause everything I do to you_

_Causes you pain._

 

“I know, baby,” Dean soothed. His hand involuntarily reaching for Sam. It curled around Sam’s wrist, thumb stroking his pulse point. 

 

Sam’s eyes slipped shut, his bottom lip pulled tightly between his teeth. Dean’s heart stuttered and he had to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep from saying it again. He never got sick of the way Sam reacted to being called _baby_ , like it was the first time every time. 

 

“I’ve never been with anyone but you,” Sam swore. “I just didn’t say anything because I didn’t want you to think I still had feelings for her when I don’t-I never did.” 

 

“Sammy, you don’t have to explain anything,” he reassured him. “I know you. I know you’d never do that.” 

 

Sam was the most loyal person Dean had ever known and the idea of him doing something like that was downright laughable. It wasn’t in Sam to hurt people, not for anything. Dean on the other hand had become an expert at it over the years, despite the fact that it was failing him more than ever now. 

 

“Then what,” Sam asked in frustration, eyes snapping open. “What did I do-”

 

“No,” Dean cut him off furiously. “You didn’t do anything, Sam.” This wasn’t on him, this was all on Dean and for once Sam was going to have to learn to accept that. 

 

_Just walk away,_

_Anyone in love knows you deserve better than me._

 

“It’s better this way,” Dean added quietly, running his fingertips up and down Sam‘s arm. “You’ll have Jess to go back to and you can-”

 

_You fight and tell me to be strong,_

 

“You’re it for me, Dean!” Sam snapped, jerking his arm away. “There’s never been anyone else. If I had loved Jess at all, I never would have come back to you. I never would have risked everything to just tell you I love you! Why can’t you understand that?” 

 

Dean couldn’t understand that because to understand that meant he had to accept it. And to accept it meant to own up to his own feelings. Owning up to his own feelings was what had gotten him in this mess in the first place. Caught between wanting to spend every last second with Sam and wanting to put as much distance between them as possible. 

 

“It’s wrong,” he finally said. “This whole thing is wrong.” _I shouldn’t be giving you up-not for anything._

 

“You can’t say that this is wrong, Dean,” Sam insisted. “I’ve never felt anything like this before. Not for anyone.”

 

“Sam,” Dean said, shaking his head. He didn’t want to hear this. To be reminded of all the love Sam had given him, and how short he’d fallen in that department. 

 

“No,” Sam snapped. “You don’t get to pretend this isn’t real to make it easier on you when you’re ripping my heart out.” 

 

_You say we're special,_

_That you want to carry on._

 

Dean winced, his stomach heaving. He’d known this was going to hurt Sam, had done his best to soften the blow but make it believable at the same time, and not once had he considered the possibility of Sam actually admitting to how much pain Dean was causing him. 

 

He’d never hated himself more than in that moment, not even when he’d kissed Sam for the first time, or realized how helplessly in love he was with his younger brother. He’d thought he couldn’t sink any lower, and he’d never been more wrong. 

 

“I’ve been in love with you since I was thirteen, Dean. For seven years I had to pretend like it didn’t hurt to watch you with all those girls…”

 

“Five, Sam. You were gone for two of them. You don’t know what I was doing then.” Fuck. That wasn’t what he wanted to say to Sam. He didn’t have any right to be angry with Sam or to complain about the distance between them. After all, wasn’t he the one pushing to end things? 

 

Sam looked away, his face softening. “That was a mistake,” he answered quietly. 

 

“No,” Dean argued. “The mistake was leaving Stanford.” _No, no, no,_ Dean was yelling on the inside, arguing violently with himself while doing his best to stay calm and detached with Sam on the outside. 

 

“How can you say that?” Sam demanded, his gaze snapping back to Dean. “After everything…how can you even think that?” 

 

“Because it’s the truth, Sam. You were better off at Stanford. There’s nothing for you here.” _Except me._

 

Sam glared at him, jaw clenched tight. “That’s not what you said when I came back,” Sam bit out. “Then it was all _don’t you ever leave me again, Sammy,_ and-”

 

“And what?” Dean interrupted. He didn’t need Sam to remind him of what he’d said that day. Or how tightly he’d held Sam after either. If he remembered correctly, and he did, his exact words had been _fuck, Sammy, fuck, don’t you leave me again._

 

_You beg me for one more try,_

_I can't help but ask you why._

 

“And I don’t understand how you can give up so easily on us!” Sam yelled. His eyes flashed dangerously, sending Dean’s heart plummeting to his stomach. “I know things have been kind of rough lately, but if you’d just-”

 

“Why, Sam? What’s the point?” Dean demanded, pleading silently for Sam to have an answer that even Dean couldn’t talk his way out of. “What’s the point when this is all just going to end anyway?” 

 

Rough was an understatement for the past few months, and he knew that he was mostly to blame for that but every time Sam said _I love you_ he was reminded of just how much he couldn’t give to Sam, of how much they just didn’t belong together, no matter how perfect they were. 

 

“It doesn’t have to end, Dean, that’s your choice.” 

 

“My choice?” Dean raised an eyebrow. Since when had everything been his choice? He hadn’t had a hand in Sam’s leaving or even his coming back. 

 

“You’re the one that wants to quit on us. Not me,” Sam accused. “Never me.” 

 

Sam was right, again. It was never Sam that wanted to end things, it was never Sam that walked out when things got tough, and it was never Sam that had his heart stepped all over by sweet murmurings. No, that was all for Dean.

 

Sam was the one making the sacrifices, Sam was the one giving everything he had. 

 

“You’re right,” Dean admitted, not bothering to voice his thoughts on just why it was that Sam was never the one. It was cruel enough what he was about to do.

 

_The other guy is waiting right outside,_

 

Sam’s mouth twisted into a bitter smirk. “That’s a first,” he quipped. 

 

“Yeah, well,” Dean shrugged it off. “So’s this.“ He lifted a hand and reached past Sam for the closest curtain and hoped like hell this was the way to go. 

 

Sam followed the movement of his arm, out the window, and to the cherry red sports car idling out front. His gaze whipped back to Dean, disbelief clouding the pain in his eyes. He was fighting with himself, trying to convince himself that what Dean was showing him wasn’t true, and failing miserably. 

 

Dean tried his best to remain empty, letting the pain dull his senses to the point that it didn’t take even an once of energy to act bored or disinterested in the conversation at hand.

 

It came second nature to Dean-hurting Sam-right after protecting him. 

 

Honestly Dean didn’t even know the guy outside. Trevor, Taylor, something like that. He was just another guy Dean had found in a bar. A one night stand, all the benefits of no attachments and breaking the ones he had. 

 

_Gotta get my things,_

_Gotta leave you tonight._

 

If Dean thought the most painful part about saying goodbye would be to hear the broken betrayal in his brother’s voice, he was wrong. Worse than anything Sam could say-or anyway he could say it- was his silence. The silence that only grew with every labored breath that hung heavy between them.

 

Sam’s eyes were filled with confusion and love that only made Dean’s stomach heave. In Sam’s position Dean would have yelled and more than likely punched someone or something. He would already be halfway down the walk with every intent of dragging the nameless guy from his overcompensating, flashy red piece of shit car, and instilling in him the undeniable truth that Sam belonged to _Dean._

 

_See some things don't work out,_

_I never meant to hurt you, now,_

 

But Sam wasn’t anything like Dean and that was probably why things weren’t going to work out.

 

Sam’s mouth moved wordlessly, a strangled sound barely escaping his throat. He shook his head and swallowed hard, glancing around the room-at the floor, the wall, the ceiling- anything but Dean or that damn window. 

 

“This wouldn’t have worked, Sammy,” Dean went on. There was no way to soften the blow. Not without admitting the truth and that would only ruin everything Dean was working for. “I didn’t want to end things this way, but you…”

 

“I what?” Sam demanded, snapping back from whatever internal struggle he was having. “What the hell did I do wrong, Dean?” There it was. The righteous indignation he was looking for. 

 

“You,”- _fucking mean everything to me_ -” wouldn’t have let it go without the truth. And the truth is, I can’t do this.” 

 

_Get over me._

 

Sam laughed, running a hand through his hair. “You can’t do this?” he repeated. “That’s just great, Dean-did you ever once think about that _before_ we started this? Or was this all some kind of impulse thing of yours? Got tired of one night stands and actually having to work for the attention? Because God knows it must have been so draining for you, with all those girls throwing their panties at you the second you walked through the door,” Sam snapped irritably. 

 

“They weren’t just throwing their panties at me,” Dean tried to deflect. 

 

“That’s not the point!” Sam cried. “I didn’t look-not once!” 

 

Dean nodded. “I know, Sammy. But I did.” 

 

_Don't believe in love,_

_And I won't ever again._

 

Dean watched the betrayal and pain flash behind his brother’s eyes for the hundredth time since he’d come back, with the intentions of making the cleanest break possible. Every truth tinged lie he breathed seemed to hurt more than help, in more ways than he’d ever imagined and for a split second he wondered if he’d made a mistake in coming back. Maybe loving and leaving with no good bye really was for the best. 

 

Sam didn’t need to have it rubbed in his face that Dean had never been quite as certain of their relationship as Sam had always been, or that along the way Dean had looked at more than one girl, even if he had never touched. The means to an end in the parking lot only reminding Sam that he could never be sure of Dean or his intentions. 

 

_Just walk away,_

 

It could be as simple or as complex as a kiss, depending on what mood you caught Dean in. The never ending invitations and the constant shut downs when he remembered the puppy dog eyed baby brother waiting at the motel or in a booth somewhere in the back. 

 

_Everyone around knows,_

_You were always better to me._

 

All Dean ever seemed to do was hurt Sam, with thoughtless words or actions. Even before they’d started this Dean was never good enough. Sam didn’t have to say it, he could see it in Sam’s eyes when he shrugged something off or made a smart ass remark about his feelings or Sam’s. Called him a girl, when all he was trying to do was love Dean. 

 

Now he had the nerve to do it again to protect himself. 

 

“Is this really a first?” Sam finally managed. “Or is this just the first time you’ve ever had the balls to tell me?” 

 

_Don't know why_

_I always sabotage everything._

 

Dean dropped his gaze, ashamed with himself. He’d never cheated on Sam and he never would, no matter how bad things got, but here he was trying his best to make Sam believe that he had. That the brunette sitting outside meant something more to him than a good fuck and piss poor replacement for his Sammy. 

 

That would surely ruin any chance of Sam taking Dean back if in a moment of weakness he pleaded with his brother to do so. This was the only thing that Sam could never forgive him for, as hard as he might try for Dean. It just wasn’t something that could be forgotten. It was the ultimate betrayal and the only sure sign that Dean’s love for Sam wasn’t strong enough. 

 

Or at least it would, if Sam could believe him. 

 

“Tell me you don’t love me, Dean,” Sam pleaded, the betrayal in his eyes fading. “Tell me this meant nothing to you.” 

 

“I-” his breath caught his chest. “I can’t do that.” God, he wanted to. He wanted to be able to tell Sam that he was nothing to him, but he couldn’t do that. Not for anything in the world, not even for Sam. It was too big a lie for even Dean Winchester. 

 

_We may be perfect,_

_But that don't mean a thing._

 

“Then why?” Sam demanded. “If this means something to you, if _I_ mean something to you…”

 

If he meant something- _if_ Sam meant something? As if bleeding at every turn for Sam wasn’t enough to let him know that Dean gave a damn, that Dean fucking loved him more than anything in this world or any other. There was no if about it. That love that Sam so easily questioned was the whole reason for this breakup. But he couldn’t say that, couldn’t explain his reasoning to Sam. He’d only argue it until Dean broke, and that wasn’t an option. 

 

“It just wouldn’t work, Sammy,” Dean answered as truthfully as he could. Talk about Stanford and another life, a better one, just wasn’t right. Didn’t pass between them as easily as it should for brothers. 

 

“It could if you’d just let it,” Sam insisted. “If you’d relax and let down your guard with me for once, Dean, we could make this work. This is _right._ ”

 

“No, Sam, it isn’t.”

 

_So, get over me,_

_Cause everything I do to you causes you pain._

 

There were worse things than two brothers falling in love, Dean would admit that readily, but there was nothing worse to him than Sam suffering or getting anything less than what he deserved. And Dean wasn’t about to be the reason for either. 

 

“So what if it’s wrong, Dean. We aren’t hurting anybody! You knew we were brothers from the very beginning, so where is this coming from now?” 

 

Dean shrugged helplessly. He was at a loss for word. There was no way to answer any of Sam’s questions without spilling his heart out all over the floor and he wasn’t about to do that. Not when he was so close to mending things as best he could, broken heart or two along the way. Sam would heal, he’d have Jess, Stanford, and all the friends he’d made along the way. He wouldn’t be alone, Dean had made sure of that. 

 

 

_Just walk away,_

_Anyone in love knows you deserve better than me_

 

Sam sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face. “I tried so hard,” he said uselessly. “I thought if I gave enough, you’d want to stay. I could feel you pulling away, but I thought if I just…I don’t know what I thought.” He turned empty eyes on Dean, jaw clenching tightly and then opening, as if he’d lost an internal struggle. “I love you, that I know.” 

 

_Just walk away._

_Don’t believe in love,_

_And I won’t ever again_

 

“Come here,” Dean whispered, tugging on Sam’s wrist. His heart breaking for how true Sam’s words rang. “Come here, baby.” Sam had given everything. He had sacrificed and fought to keep them together, did everything short of rip his own heart out and hand it over in the most literal of ways. 

 

He threaded his fingers through Sam’s and slid his free hand into silky brown locks. Sam came hesitantly, his body stiff against Dean’s, then slowly melting into him like he always had. Like he probably always would if Dean would just let it happen. 

 

Dean pressed his face into Sam’s neck and breathed him in. He was going to miss this, being able to hold and kiss Sam whenever he wanted. To just breathe him in whenever the mood struck him to without having to explain why. 

 

He’d never have this again, with anyone. Even if he gave up his way of life, gave up hunting and anything involved with the supernatural, there’d never be anyone he’d want to hold close like this. There’d never be anyone else he wanted to make love to, or fall asleep wrapped up in, spent and sated. There’d just never be anyone else. 

 

_Just walk away,_

 

This was it for them both. Time for a fresh start. A new life for Sam and a wasted one regretting the things he hadn’t said to Sam, for Dean. 

 

Sam’s arms wound around Dean’s waist in a death grip, refusing to believe this was it as strongly as his words. He turned his head, capturing Sam’s lips impulsively, desperately. It was stupid and reckless, but if he was going to live his life without Sam he wasn’t leaving without at least one goodbye kiss. A reminder of all he’d had and all he’d given up, the next time he felt the need to screw something up. 

 

Sam whimpered, defeat surging through them both. He let his arms slip from Dean, hanging loosely at his sides as he let Dean lead him down the path of regret. Dean licked his way into Sam’s mouth in a searing kiss, refusing to release Sam until he was panting for breath and on the verge of blacking out.

 

Swaying on his feet, he let their lips part, mouths a breath away for fear of losing Sam too quickly. Which was probably the most ridiculous thought Dean had ever had, but he wanted to do things his way and on his terms-painful and twisted as possible. 

 

The same way things had started. 

 

_Everyone around knows you were always better to me._

 

“Goodbye, Sammy,” Dean whispered against his mouth. 

 

He sealed his lips over Sam’s before he could try and convince Dean that there was a way around this, because there wasn’t. And he wanted to leave here with the memory of Sam’s body perfectly fit to his and the achingly sweet taste of his brother’s tongue. 

 

Now all he had to do was remember to forget.


End file.
